


Cockblocked by the European Union

by solrosan



Series: All mobile phones should be turned off for the duration of the flight [4]
Category: Cabin Pressure, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Airplane Sex, Coitus Interruptus, European Union, F/M, Nobel Prize
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:49:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solrosan/pseuds/solrosan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anthea and Martin try to find as much time together as they can, but with their jobs it's not the easiest thing in the world to get a <strike>long enough</strike> moment alone together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cockblocked by the European Union

**Author's Note:**

> zedille has been even more valuable than usual this time and we have blushed our way thourgh this together. Thank you so much, this would never been posted without you!

Martin looked around the crowded and very loud café at Strasbourg International Airport. At a small table at the back wall he saw Anthea sitting with her laptop, typing with one hand and manoeuvring a large cup with the other. He smiled, making his way between the tables and stressed travellers.

“Hello,” he said as he reached her table. “I’ve received the most ridiculous text message.”

She looked up with a big smile. “Really? What does it say?”

“ _’I’m at Café Vents d’Est. Come and have coffee with me.’_ ”

“What’s so ridiculous about that?”

“How did you know I was here?”

Anthea smiled as she got up from the table and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Who do you think booked the MEPs on the MJN-flight?”

“You- you did what?”

“I have a layover,” she said, kissing him. “And I thought I’d schedule some… exercise.”

Martin blinked. “You booked the MEPs on an MJN flight because you’re bored?”

“They needed to be here anyway,” Anthea said, shrugging. “But yes. I did.”

“That’s presumptuous of you,” Martin said, blushing slightly.

She kissed him again. “Yes.”

“And… we’re flying back as soon as we’ve refuelled.” Martin looked very guilty when he said it.

Anthea cursed under her breath.

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s not your fault. I forgot that there are people who don’t live in hotel rooms.” She let go of him, straightening his uniform. It was unnecessary, but she liked touching it. “I just have to plan better next time.”

“I still have time for coffee, though.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” she said, still with her hands on his chest. “Black, right?”

“Yes. The largest one you can find.”

Anthea kissed his cheek and went to get a coffee for him, and a refill for herself. It wasn’t what she had planned, but the thirty minutes they spent chatting over coffee (most of it consisting of Martin telling her about what Arthur had done to the MEPs) was the closest thing to an actual date that they’d ever had.

* * *

Martin woke up on a neatly made hotel bed. It wasn’t completely dark in the room, but there were still hours to sunrise, and he wasn’t completely sure what had woken him, or where he was for that matter – an occupational hazard. He noticed that he was still in uniform, and frowned when he realised how wrinkled it would be. As he blinked away the sleep from his eyes, he remembered that he was in Brussels, and that this wasn’t his hotel room. It was Anthea’s, and she wasn’t in bed with him. 

“Anthea?” he mumbled, sitting up and looking around the small room. It was impossible not to notice the dark-haired woman who seemed to have fallen asleep at the desk, on top of her laptop.

Martin smiled. When he had arrived, she’d told him that she just had ‘one small thing’ to take care of, because ‘an incident’ had occurred earlier during the day, but that she would be done in a matter of minutes. A glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table told a different story.

He walked over to the desk. “Anthea,” he whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder and shaking her gently. “Wake up and come to bed.”

“What?” Anthea blinked and lifted her head off the desk. Marks from the keyboard were clearly visible on her cheek. “Martin?”

“You fell asleep.”

Anthea rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Quarter to four.”

“Damn.” She sighed, leaning back in the chair and making a face. She massaged the left side of her neck.

“Did you save the world?”

“If only it had been that important… The bill will pass either way, I just didn’t want tomorrow’s main story to be… Never mind.” Anthea closed the computer before looking up at Martin. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, it’s a nice bed.”

“We weren’t supposed to use it for _sleeping_.”

“To be fair, you haven’t slept in it.”

Anthea yawned. “Would you mind terribly if sleeping was the only thing we used it for this time?”

“No.” Martin pulled her to her feet. “I need to be back at the airport in about three hours, anyway.”

“I’ll make up for it some other time.”

“I’m not just here for the sex.”

“No?” Anthea looked at him with a smirk as she fumbled with her buttons. “Because that’s why I keep you around.”

Martin turned red, even if he knew by now that she only said things like that to get him to blush. He got undressed as well, hoping that the worst wrinkles would straighten themselves out if he just hung the clothes up properly, before joining Anthea under the covers. It didn’t take long before both of them had fallen asleep again.

* * *

Martin double-checked the number of the hotel door against the directions he had received via text, and knocked. 

Two seconds later Anthea opened the door, dressed in a long, black dress. “You’re late.”

“I’m… sorry?” Martin blinked. “What am I late for?”

“It’s all right.” Anthea’s face softened and she gave him a quick kiss. “It’s my fault, I should have scheduled your flight earlier. I should have expected it to be a bit harder to get around in Oslo when most of the European heads of state and government are here.”

“What?”

Anthea waved him in and walked back into the hotel room – it was much smaller than they usually were, Martin noted. 

She pointed at a garment bag hanging from the closet door. “Put that on.”

“Ehm…”

“I don’t think you have time for a proper shower.” Anthea sat down in front of the mirror where she had been putting on her makeup when he had interrupted her. “You can wash up if you like. I haven’t used the towels, so they’re still dry.”

“What’s this?” Martin asked, opening the zip.

“A dinner jacket,” Anthea said, leaning closer to the mirror to remove something from the corner of her eye. “I hope it fits. It’s the same size as your uniform, but you never really know.”

“No, I mean, why do I have a dinner jacket?”

Anthea looked at him, smiling. “Well, if the Royal family are wearing dinner jackets, you can’t show up in white tie.”

“The roy-roy… the royal family?” Martin went pale.

“Not ours,” Anthea said quickly, as if that were the reason for his shock. “The Norwegian Royal family.”

“Wh- wh- wh-“ 

Anthea looked confused. “What’s wrong?”

“I landed, like, fifteen minutes ago and I had to fight my way through more security than an American airport to get here for what I thought would be sex and coffee, and you’re talking about the bloody King of Norway!”

“Oh.” Anthea looked quite stunned. “I might have forgotten to fill you in on the plans for tonight.”

“You think?”

“We’re going to the Nobel Peace Banquet.”

Martin had to sit down on the bed. “Why?”

“Because my boss loves me and this is my Christmas present?” Anthea suggested, winking. “The EU got the Peace Prize, and I’m actually invited to the banquet.”

“No, no, I meant…” Martin paused. “I’m sorry, first: wow. Congratulations?”

Anthea beamed. “Thank you.”

“What I meant to say was: why are you taking me?”

“Because I know you’ll look like a short Prince William in that dinner jacket, and when we’re done I thought we’d come back here for sex and coffee.”

“Hm.” Martin nodded thoughtfully, letting it all sink in. “All right.”

With that he got up from the bed and started to change from the uniform to the dinner jacket. Anthea watched him for a moment before she went back to add the last touches on her makeup.

“I… I don’t think I can work this,” Martin said when he was almost done dressing, holding the bowtie between his hands.

“I was afraid of that,” Anthea said, putting down her lipstick. She pulled out a pre-tied bowtie from her handbag. “This will have to do.”

“Are you sure?”

Anthea got up and wrapped it around his neck. “It has to, because I can’t tie one either.”

He leaned forward and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She let him for a while, but then she pushed away.

“You’re ruining my makeup,” she said, wiping the trace of her lipstick from his lips.

“What will I have to do tonight?” Martin asked.

“At the Grand Hotel, or here?”

Martin sighed. “I’m serious, Anthea. I can’t talk to these people.”

“Yes, you can,” she said encouragingly, making sure his bowtie looked all right. “Most of them will be MEPs this year, and if there’s one thing they know, it’s airports. And no one knows airports better than you do.” 

“I can’t talk to politicians about airports. I’ve hardly ever been anywhere except the hangars and the tax-free shops.”

“I remember you visiting a lounge in Frankfurt,” Anthea said, tracing his lower lip with her finger. “That was quite a night.”

“I can’t talk about that!”

Anthea kissed him. “Then you can talk about, I don’t know, losing your luggage.”

“The only one losing my luggage is Arthur.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll be perfect.” Anthea smiled. “Just stay close to me, shake hands with the Royal family—” Martin went pale “—pull my chair out, use the silverware from the outside in, watch my handbag when I go to the loo, and most importantly… try to enjoy yourself.”

“That sounds simple enough.”

“If I’d had the time, I would have written you a manual,” she said, still smiling. “But I know you’ll be fine. Just be your charming self.”

“I don’t have a charming self.”

Anthea laughed. “Of course you do.”

Martin didn’t look convinced. 

“You’ll be perfect,” Anthea said again. “But we should really get going. Don’t want to keep the king waiting, do we?”

“I… Can I have one moment?”

“A short one.”

Martin closed his eyes, miming his way through what Anthea could only imagine to be his greeting with the king. When he had stopped and restarted three times, Anthea stepped up to him and interrupted him with another kiss.

“Let’s go,” she whispered. “It’ll be fine, and honestly, you can’t cause a political scandal that I can’t handle.”

“That’s actually more scary than reassuring.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, taking his arm as he opened the door for her. “Tonight I rule the world the way you think I do, and I want you by my side when I do it.”

* * *

Anthea sighed, reaching over Martin to get her mobile. They were still both half-dressed, lying on the covers, and Martin was wearing most of Anthea’s makeup. It was the third time it rang since Martin arrived half an hour ago, and whoever was calling didn’t seem to understand that Anthea had better things to do right now than talk on the phone.

“What?” she answered, after checking the caller ID. She frowned as she listened to the caller’s reason to interrupt them.

“What’s happening?” Martin mouthed.

She shook her head, putting a finger on Martin’s lips to make sure he stayed quiet as she sat up. She nodded to what the person on the other end had to say, interjecting questions now and then as her voice became quieter and quieter. After a while she looked back at Martin.

“Yes, he’s here,” she said, taking the phone from her ear to address Martin. “How fast can you get me back to London?”

“Um…”

“How much can I offer Mrs Knapp-Shappey?” Anthea asked the person on the phone – Martin started to get the strong suspicion that it was Mr Holmes. “I can work with that. There’ll be a car to pick me up? I’ll send you a text with the details when I have them.”

She hung up the phone, staring blankly into space for a moment before looking down at Martin again. She forced a smile. “Do you think Carolyn will let you fly me to London for seven thousand?” 

“We once flew to Johannesburg on a twelve thousand budget, I think seven thousand will buy you a Brussels-London ticket.”

“Good.” She got out of bed and started to button up her blouse.

Martin sat up. “What’s happened?” 

“Nothing,” she mumbled.

Martin nodded, but since Anthea avoided looking at him she didn’t notice. He watched her silently as she gathered all her things and carelessly stuffed it into her small cabin bag. He didn’t call Carolyn until she was almost done.

“They’ll meet us at the airport in 45 minutes,” he said when he hung up. 

“Good,” Anthea said. She tied her hair in a ponytail and finally turned around, meeting Martin’s eyes. She looked very worn, not even trying to put on a strong mask. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Are, are you all right?”

She nodded, but then she sighed and shook her head instead. Martin walked over to her and hugged her. 

“Will whatever it is be all right?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled against his shirt. “If not, you’ll hear it on the news.”

Martin’s stomach turned into a knot and he held her tighter. After about a minute just standing in his arms Anthea took a deep breath and stepped back from him. She looked more determined now, nodding once before picking up her bag.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Martin nodded as well and after a second of hesitation he reached out and took her hand. She looked confused at first, but then she smiled gratefully at him. They went downstairs hand-in-hand to call for a taxi.

* * *

Anthea covered the microphone on her phone when someone knocked on the door. “Who is it?”

“Martin.”

She looked at her watch, she had no idea it was so late. Getting up from the desk she turned the top paper in every pile upside-down and closed all windows on the computer. Not that Martin would care about any of it, but it was a good habit to have.

“Non, ça ne sera pas la peine,” she said in the phone as she opened the door. “Je vais parler à Monsieur Holmes.”

“Hello,” Martin said, smiling, still in uniform.

Anthea mimed a greeting, putting a finger against his lips to make sure he didn’t say anything. Then she held up the finger in front of him to say that she would be done soon.

“Je peux te rappeler plus tard?” She beckoned Martin into the room. “Non, non, c'est juste que mon rendez-vous de 5 heures vient d'arriver. Oui, je te parle plus tard. A plus tard.”

She tossed the phone on the bed, dragging both her hands through her hair in frustration. “These people!”

“The French?”

“No, the G/EFA.”

Martin looked like a huge question mark.

“The Greens/European Free Alliance,” she said, shaking her head. “They just… Gah! They’re blocking a vote for no reason.”

“What’s it about? The, the vote?”

“Information flow between the Union and the rest of Europe.”

“Is it important?”

“I honestly don’t care anymore,” Anthea said, sighing, and picked up her phone again. “I need to call Mr Holmes, do you mind?”

Martin shook his head.

She gave him a long, thorough kiss, and sighed when she had to pull away. “Order something from room service if you’re hungry or… something.”

“Do you want anything?”

“You.”

Martin blushed. 

She gave him another kiss. “Get me some chips and mayonnaise.”

With that she dialled Mr Holmes’ number, took the papers she needed from the desk, and shut herself in the bathroom. About 20 minutes later she came back out, looking guilty.

“You have to go,” Martin said, knowing that look all too well by now.

“Yeah…” she said. “I have to go to Espace Léopold.”

“Who?”

Anthea smiled. “Parliament.”

“So it is important?”

“Yes.”

“Chips and mayo?” Martin held up the plate with chips that room service had brought up while she was in the bathroom.

“Yes, please.” Anthea took a couple of chips and fed him one. “When do you fly back?”

“Eight o’clock.”

Anthea sighed and looked at her watch. “I won’t be back until then.”

They looked at each other, both smiling awkwardly at the anti-climax. Anthea’s mobile rang and broke the silence. She checked the caller ID and frowned, before declining the call. 

“My cab’s here,” she said.

“Go and save the world,” Martin said, trying to sound encouraging.

“I wish my job were half as cool as you seem to think it is,” Anthea said with a smile, kissing him. “Use the room as long as you like, I recommend the hot tub. And order whatever you want from room service. I’ll bill Mr Holmes for it.”

Martin smiled slightly. “I’ll see you another time?”

“Bet on it,” she whispered, leaning in for one last kiss before she quickly stuffed all the things she needed in her handbag and left the room.

In the lift down, Anthea took some of her frustration out by slamming her hand against the wall. If they didn’t win this vote, she would be very much inclined to start a minor war. Or at least raise an inconvenient tax for someone.

* * *

Anthea locked the toilet door behind them and turned around. Martin was sitting down on the closed toilet. They looked at each other for a moment before bursting out laughing. This was probably the least sexy place they had ever tried to have sex, and the planning of this otherwise rather spontaneous location felt ridiculous.

“Have you ever done this?” Anthea asked.

“What? Me? No.” Martin shook his head. “I’m usually the one flying the plane.”

“You’re supposed to be flying now as well.”

“Right.” Martin blushed. “And you haven’t…?”

Anthea shook her head as well. “Just the back seat of a couple of cars.”

“How very _Titanic_ of you.”

Anthea giggled. They looked around the claustrophobically small space, assessing it. Anthea tried to get a good grip around the edge of the sink. Martin did his best to look anywhere but at her.

“So…”

“Yeah…”

They smiled awkwardly.

“I think we might have two options,” Anthea said, still looking around. “Either you stay down there and I ride you, or we do it up against the door.”

“Not the door,” Martin said quickly. “If Arthur can break it with his shoulder, I don’t think it’ll hold a… ehm… hm.”

Anthea smiled. “Not the door, then.”

“No.”

“Then you stay down there,” Anthea whispered as she leaned down to kiss him. He tiled his head upwards to meet her lips, putting his hands on her hips to pull her closer. She slipped her hand down between his legs, stroking his dick through the uniform trousers. He grunted approvingly. 

She started to fumble with his belt. “Condom?”

“Left—No, right pocket,” Martin said, flustered. She moved away to let him retrieve the condom and work his trousers and pants down to his knees. As she watched him roll the condom onto his dick she stepped out of her heels, tucked her skirt up and took off her knickers.

Martin looked at her, amazed, as if he couldn’t believe this was happening. She stepped forward, spreading her legs so that she could get his between hers. When she did Martin took the opportunity to put his hand between her legs and started rubbing her clit. She bit her lip to stay quiet, but when he proceeded to slide two fingers inside her, she couldn’t help but moan. She rock against his hand and pressing down to feel him deeper inside her. God, she had missed that feeling. She wanted more! More than just his fingers, even though he… _Oh, fuck!_ She needed to brace herself against the walls, pressing down even more. 

“God, Martin,” she panted. “Why haven’t we thought about this before? No damn phones. Nowhere to go. Nothing to interrupt.”

“I’ve thought about it lots of times.”

“Of course you have, Captain Crieff,” she said, half-chuckling, putting her hand on his cock and stroking it slowly. “You know what? When we get back to the UK, we’re getting tested.” She leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “Because I want you to come in my mouth.”

Martin gasped, completely hard in her hand now. The suggestion had been genuine, but it didn’t hurt that the thought of it had worked Martin up. She smirked as he pulled her higher up in his lap, she loved the small initiatives he took during sex, and with some inconvenient fumbling and rearranging he managed to slide his dick into her. Anthea pushed down as far as she could, to get him as deep in as possible, to feel as much of him inside her at once as possible.

She started moving slowly, rocking her hips back and forth, but she couldn’t quite manage in the small space. She stopped and put her hands on his shoulders to try finding a better angle.

“Are you... Is it…?” Martin put his hands on her hips to hold her steady.

“It’s fine,” Anthea said. “You?”

Martin nodded, tilting his head to kiss her neck. She turned her head slightly to the side to help him find the spot just above her collarbone that made her shiver. When he did she let out a pleased sigh and slowly started to move again. It worked much better this time, but before she had settled into a rhythm, her left leg started protesting. She tried moving more to the right, but it didn’t help her leg very much. Martin, on the other hand, inhaled sharply, his hip jerking upwards.

“Yeah?” she asked, teasingly, doing the same thing again and again, watching Martin’s eyes roll back and his grip on her hips tightening. She pushed down hard on his lap, gasping half in pain from her leg and half due to the feeling of Martin inside her. _Damn_ , it felt good. It had been too long since the last time.

She started timing every movement with clenching around his cock and Martin responded by thrusting his hips. He wrapped her arms around her to make sure she didn’t fall off his lap as he thrusted again.

“Oh, God, I… I… I’m… I…” Martin gasped, his body shivering.

“Come for me, Captain Crieff,” Anthea panted, and when he did, she did her best to muffle his cry with her own mouth. She kissed as he came down from his orgasm, and he let his head fall forward to rest on her breast. Her leg really ached now, but she remained still to enjoy their closeness a little bit longer and she smiled when Martin kissed her cleavage. Then, with some clumsy effort, she got off his lap, bracing herself against the sink as she reached for some paper to wipe herself a bit before putting her knickers back on. She looked at Martin fondly as he took off the condom. 

He met her eyes. “Did you…?”

“No.”

“Oh…” Martin’s face turned red underneath his still flustered cheeks and he looked utterly embarrassed.

“It’s all right,” she said, smiling. “I enjoyed it. A lot.”

“But…”

“Seriously, Martin, I don’t think it would ever have happened here. My leg cramped up and just…” She kissed him, whispering: “This one was all for you.”

“Ehm…” Martin looked rather confused. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” She took the hand that had been between her legs and sucked on one of his fingers. “You can pay me back in the shower at the hotel tonight.”

Martin whimpered.

Anthea chuckled, still holding his hand. “Will you be all right landing the plane, Martin?”

“Douglas can do it.”

“I knew you kept him around for a reason.”

Martin smiled, finally standing and pulling up his pants and trousers again. He put his arms around her and kissed her gently. He would never tell her, because it felt absolutely ridiculous, but he felt as if he had outsmarted the entire European Union by being able to fuck her without getting interrupted. That would be more than enough to make up for the horrors of having to step out of the toilet and face the rest of the crew.


End file.
